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Sunday, August 31, 2014

Death by High Heels

by Violet Ingram

Blurb:

Spending
time with a dead guy, being interrogated by the cops and getting
stitched up by a cute ER doc wasn’t exactly the evening plans private
investigator Kimberly Murphy envisioned. Especially the getting caught
standing over a dead body, again, part. Only this time it wasn’t her
fault. Just once she’d like it if homicide detective Grant Tompkins
didn’t assume she was guilty.
To clear her slightly tarnished
name, Kim goes after the clever killer while avoiding a certain hot
homicide detective determined to put her in handcuffs – and not the
pink, fuzzy kind – not that she’d mind. Too bad Kim’s efforts lead to
dead ends and even more dead bodies. Kim will need all her skills and a
bit of luck to outwit a killer who’d like to put an end to Kim’s
meddling permanently.

Excerpt:

Sunday evening
Cops
hate it when you vomit all over their crime scene—a mistake I had no
desire to repeat. Then again, the fact I’d just trampled all over this
scene was probably a whole new mistake I should have avoided. I stared
at the corpse and fought the urge to hurl. If only I hadn’t answered the
door, I’d be eating dinner instead of standing in my neighbor’s
apartment looking at a dead guy.
Said dead guy was just sitting
there in the chair. You would think he was asleep—if not for all the
blood and guts spilled onto his lap. I tore my eyes from him and asked
the question I most wanted the answer to.
“What the heck did you hit him with?”
Lindsay dropped the strand of blonde hair she’d been twirling and glanced down at the floor. “My shoe.”
“Huh?”
“I’ve already told you. Twice. I hit him with my shoe.”
“Damn it, Lindsay, you can’t kill someone with a shoe!”
“Hello, they’re Via Spiga.”

Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/DiEN-jIMhTc

Character Interview:

Do you have any annoying habits your author did not share with us in your book?

Maybe, but none that I feel comfortable enough to share.

Do you have siblings? Are you close to them?

Four
older brothers and an older sister. We’re so close I’d like to strangle
them sometimes. They are always interfering in my life.

Any hobbies we might be interested in knowing about?

I
love to read romance and mystery books. I like to listen to music and
sing along but only if I’m alone. I don’t think my singing is bad enough
to be an actual cause of death but I’m not willing to take the chance.

Are
you happy with the profession your author chose for you or would you
rather be working at something totally different and why?

No.
She could have at least had the decency to make me independently
wealthy. You don’t see her tripping over dead bodies and getting
kidnapped.

Are you planning to make an appearance in a sequel?

If not are you unhappy about that? Oh yes. She’s busy at her laptop right now causing chaos in my life.

Now for a personal question. Is there enough sex in the book for you? Would you have liked more?

I don’t think I should answer that. My parents could read this.

Did you author handle your “love” scenes the way you like or was she too explicit or not explicit enough?

I was quite happy and that’s all I’m going to say on the issue.

Is you’re hero/heroine a good kisser?

I don’t normally kiss and tell but OMG can that man kiss.

Are you happy with the setting?

Did
you want a bigger house or car? I’m a suburb kind of girl so I’m quite
happy. Maybe a bigger bank account but that’s about it.

How many re-writes did you have to live through?

You don’t even want to know.

Did your author listen to you when you tried to redirect her/him?

Of course she had to listen to me. Everyone knows us characters just let the authors think they’re in charge.

Did your story end too soon?

It ended at the perfect time. If you read the book you’ll understand why I was soo happy at the end.

Did you get enough time in the story or do you feel shortchanged?

I was front and center the whole time so I’m good.

Who was your favorite supporting character?

Hot cop Grant Tompkins.

Do you want your story to become a series with you as a recurring character?

Oh it is. That crazy writer is busy making sure of that.

Were you happy with your wardrobe?

You can’t go wrong with jeans and a T-shirt.

Did you fight much with your author or did you two see eye-to-eye?

She was wise and realized I was in charge. Very little fighting necessary.

Author Bio:

Violet Ingram is a wife, mother, and author. She and her husband have been married for over 24 years and they have 5 children.
Violet’s
love of books was the direct result of having spent Saturday mornings
going to libraries with her mom. Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, and
Encyclopedia Brown were the first books she fell in love with.
Violet lives in the Midwest where she is busy at work on her next book.

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Stacy-Deanne (Dee-Anne) here and I want to share a
bit about my new release, Worth the Risk!

About
the Book:

Houston music critic Alvin Zak becomes smitten with
violinist Madeline Deever from the first moment she lays her bow to her violin
to perform a concerto. Sent to review the orchestra, Alvin becomes so
enraptured by Madeline that he asks her if he can do a feature on her. The
polite, yet elusive Madeline agrees to think it over while declining Alvin’s
invitation for coffee. Alvin does not understand Madeline’s abrupt refusal to
his invite and it makes him even more interested in getting close to her.

The last thing Madeline is looking for is love since she is harboring a secret
that has the power to ruin any potential relationship. Convinced no man would
love her enough to accept her situation, she fights off Alvin’s advances, but
begins to fall in love with him.

Can Alvin convince Madeline to trust him and give into her feelings or is
Madeline destined to spend her life alone?

Worth the Risk will always hold a special place in
my heart. So far, it is probably the most important book I’ve written. I wrote
it in honor of my cousin who has been living with HIV for over a decade. The
type of person she is and the struggles she’s been through made me want to base
a character of her. I also wrote the book because I feel that it is important
for fiction, especially romance, to focus on people from all lifestyles. One
thing my cousin has to deal with is finding friends and lovers who understand
her situation. I wanted to write this book for others with HIV so that they
have faith that they can find love and romance like everyone else.

Why
I Feel the Book is Important:

I believe fiction should sometimes show the harsher
side of life. I also think it is important that people have characters in which
they can relate. People with HIV fall in love and are in relationships the same
as others, yet we don’t see many romances focused on them. I don’t know why
that is. Maybe some writers don’t know much about HIV and are intimidated to
write about it. Maybe some writers feel like audiences would not want to read a
romance with an HIV-positive character. All I can say is that so far, reactions
from readers and reviewers have been positive toward my book. In fact, a
Facebook Group influenced me to follow my heart and write this. I had someone
tell me that no one would want to read about an HIV heroine, but when I asked
about this I got so many others who said that wasn’t true. I like to follow my
heart in my writing so I couldn’t let it go, so the story was born. This a
lesson to all writers to listen to your heart. If you feel strongly about
something, write it no matter what.

The
Importance of Romance Books for Everyone:

As a black child, I didn’t have any books that
centered on people like me. None of the children’s books I read and enjoyed had
little black girls in them. I always thought about that.

When I was a teenager, I never saw romance books or
many other books outside of literary fiction with blacks as characters or on
covers. Romance especially weren’t being written for blacks. It was very hard
for black authors to get their romances published. Until BET Books and Kimani
came along, romance books rarely focused on blacks. I always thought about
that.

Now, read what I just wrote and you’ll see why I
feel it’s important to have books everyone can relate to. I feel this way
because it’s something I’ve experienced. I wondered how many people with HIV
who love romance novels ever go, “Hmm,
wonder why they don’t write more romances for people like me?”

That is the question I had in my head when writing
Worth the Risk and it made me more determined and proud for writing this story.

What
I Hope Readers Get From This Book:

What I hope people get from this book is simple,
entertainment. I also hope that it expands the minds of people who don’t have
firsthand experience with HIV or with those who have it. Worth the Risk is an
interracial romance before anything else, except the heroine is living with an
incurable disease. Madeline is still a woman with feelings and desires like any
other woman. What I don’t want is for people to overlook the book because they
are afraid of the subject matter. Once again, this is a romance above all else
and I hope people see that.

Excerpt:

Madeline ran out the
door and hurried down the sidewalk toward her dark-blue Mazda.

Come on!

She dug in her purse
for her keys.

The last thing I need is anyone asking questions.

“Madeline?” Alvin
busted out the door. “Madeline?” He ran up behind her. “Wait!”

She stopped and
sighed.

What do I say if he asks why I’m here? Of course, I
can tell him to fuck off but then what? I wake up and the next thing I know
another feature of me will be in the magazine?

She turned around.

Hold on. Why the hell is he here?

“Hey.” He squinted.
“You okay?”

“Why?” She held the
prescription note behind her back. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” She raised an
eyebrow. “You saying I don’t look okay?”

“You look beautiful
actually.”

Compliments.

She brushed her hair
behind her ear.

I do like the way I feel when he looks at me. But, I
can’t trust this man. He did a feature on me without my permission. Who does
that?

She tilted her head.

I can’t lie and say I’m not a tiny bit attracted to
him. Why does he like me though? Is he really interested in me or just my
music?

She grinned. “I guess
your job can get stressful, huh? I’ve seen how some react when you give them
bad reviews. I saw what that musician did to you on Twitter last year. I couldn’t
deal with stuff like that.”

“No one likes a
critic.” He clasped his hands in front of him. “That’s the nature of the job,
but I love what I do. I love music, so that’s why I like to judge it and study
it.” He gestured to her. “Why are you here?”

“I had to see my
doctor.”

“Dr. Fox too?”

“No.” She crumpled up
the prescription note. “It’s another doctor.”

“Oh.” He nodded.
“Who?”

“Who?” She exhaled.
“Is that really your business?”

He shrugged. “No, but
I told you the name of my doctor.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t
ask did I?”

His smile faded.

I hate being a bitch to him. He seems to be a nice guy
but I can’t give him an inkling something
can be between us when I know it’s impossible. Better to reject him now than
hurt him later.

“Alvin, I told you I
didn’t wanna see you again.”

“You don’t wanna see
me because of the feature or something else? I’m sorry if doing the story hurt
you. It wasn’t my intent.”

“Do you realize how
many emails I’ve been getting since you wrote about me?” She touched her hair.
“I mean…they’re nice and stuff but I didn’t want this to happen. You should’ve
given me the choice.”

“I apologize, but I
thought you’d be happy once you saw it.”

“Well, I wasn’t.” She
held her arms to her sides. “I wasn’t.”

“I don’t know how to be with you.” He ran his
fingers through his hair. “Things that I thought would impress women don’t work
on you.”

“I don’t like games or
tricks. I’d rather know off the bat what you want. No bullshitting.”

“Okay.” He swallowed.
“I wanna go out with you, and I wanna know more about your music.”

She sighed.

“How about I give you
a chance to tell your own story this time?” He touched her arm. “I really am
sorry if the piece offended you.”

“It didn’t offend me.
It was a very flattering feature but—”

“You didn’t want it?”

She nodded. “I don’t
like people doing things behind my back.”

“You might be glad to
know it’s gotten a lot of attention. I got people calling me asking me more
about you and how to reach you.”

“I don’t want anyone
to reach me.”

“Why, Madeline?” He moved closer. “You’ve got a wonderful gift that
you share with the world, but you don’t wanna share yourself?”

The
morning was cold when Yokami materialized on the Highland soil of the Scots.
Cutting, frigid wind buffeted his imperial robes as he walked toward a giant
monolith split almost in two by the force of an ancient earthquake. The
downpour of rain shrouded the early morning sunshine. Snow-capped mountains
appeared grey and hostile in the fog and the cloudburst. His thoughts were of
Bishamon and whatever chaos he was creating back at the Imperial palace.

In
the distance, a tall woman dressed in a long drab homespun dress walked through
the heather, seemingly oblivious to the rain and the cold. Over her arm, she
carried a basket. Her long blonde hair was wound up in a bun from which
tendrils had escaped to curl around her face. The bite of the chill wind made
her cheeks the colour of roses. Praise to the Masters, she was beautiful.

Fading
to invisibility, he tucked the Sword of War, wrapped in ceremonial silk wraps
as befitting its importance, under his arm. The blade was warm against his
side. The woman bent over to pick some plants and added them to her basket,
when the purr of his Katana vibrated along his back, signalling its welcome.
The woman’s head shot up abruptly, then she stared in his direction. Although
she could not see him, she squinted like someone trying to peer through peasoup
fog. Shaking her head, she shrugged and returned to gathering the plants.

Footfalls
nearby summoned the Katana from the scabbard to his open palm. He flicked his
wrist and extended the blade. The Sword of War tingled and vibrated through the
silk wraps pressed against the side of his chest.

A
tinkling voice laced with laughter came from behind him. Looking over his
shoulder, he took a couple of seconds to recognise and take in the sight that
was Epona, the Scottish Goddess of horses, dogs, healing springs, and crops. He
smiled and relaxed as the Katana returned to the scabbard. Seated on a
sidesaddle, positioned on the back of a black Friesian mare, she extended her
hand. “Well met, Lord of the blade. To what do the Celtic Gods owe the pleasure
of your visit?”

Lowering
the sword, he bowed his head onto her outstretched fingers. “Well met, my
Lady.”

The
smile died on her face when her gaze tracked to the wrap of silk under his arm.
The mare pranced as agitation overcame her mistress. Glaring at him, she
hissed, “You would dare to bring the blade of treachery to our lands? Why? The
Sword of War has no place here.”

Yokami
nodded and acknowledged her concern. “You are correct. This sword is an
instrument of death and destruction. It has taken many lives. Too many souls
have already been lost, because of its love of bloodshed and power.”

Her
eyes lingered on the wrapped sword, then she stared unblinking at him and
nodded. “It is right that you would rid yourself of such a weapon, but why
bring it here to the Scottish Highlands? Do we not have enough strife already
with the wretched English and their greed for our land?”

Joining
both hands palm against palm just under his chin, he bowed his head in
reverence. “I mean you and your race no harm, Lady. My intention was to hide
the sword here in the past, in a place hidden for all eternity. I intended to
drop it down the crater and let the Earth take it back to base metals.”

The
corded muscles in his back and neck relaxed slightly when a small smile lifted
the corners of her lips. Confused, he cocked his head to the side and frowned.
“Have I amused you, Goddess?”

“I
was watching you before you realized I was near.” She inclined her head in the
direction of the blonde woman. “I see you are a man who appreciates beauty.”

He
nodded and followed her gaze. “She is indeed beautiful—a puzzle, but beautiful”

Epona’s
brow wrinkled. “A puzzle? What do you mean?”

The
sword in the scabbard sang as it flew to his palm. Lifting the blade, he raised
it slowly to the outstretched position. “Watch.”

The
audible purr from the Katana caused Epona to gasp as she flinched and startled
her mare, who danced on the spot. Stroking the long black neck in soothing
lines, Epona looked to Yokami and frowned. “The sword recognizes Marie
MacDonald?”

Lowering
the blade, he returned it to the scabbard, then placed a hand on the forehead
of the beautiful black mare. “So it would seem. What do you know of her?”

Epona
returned her gaze to the young woman, who was now making her way back down the
hillside. The purple heather seemed to stroke her ankles as it swayed in her
wake.

“Angus,
her husband, is of the blood of our ancient Horsemen. His clan has bred and
grown Friesians for eons. The breed was a gift to Scotland from our Gods. It is
our greatest hope that his genes will pass to a girl child, a daughter of the
Highland horsemen. You see, for the Scots, it is only female children who are
born with the Sight. We hope for a daughter who not only hears and talks and is
one with our Friesian bloodline, but who also has the skill and courage to
promote them as the best this world has ever seen. As our Gods intended—the
pride of Scotland.”

She
tapped her index finger lightly on the side of her mouth, as if deep in thought.
“Perhaps your sword recognizes Marie because she is of pure warrior blood. Her
clan is fearsome and undefeated in battle. Each child born to this clan is
practically birthed with a broadsword in their fist.”

Yokami
flinched, as adrenaline surged at her words. His jackhammering heart seemed to
be trying to erupt from his body. He swallowed the quaver he knew was in his
voice, then spoke. “She is warrior born?
Of the sword?”

I
smell rain before clouds gather across the sky. I feel the dawn before the sun
paints my world the colours of the earth. It is the flit of gossamer wings
above my head as I walk through the garden that warms my soul and makes me glad
that faeries exist. The universe is my mistress and my strength. Things that
growl in the shadows or snap at my ankles in the night are my dark friends—the
source of my creativity. I, am Kathrine Leannan